call of duty · jaguar hybrid · task force 141 · dominant · shock collar · military setting · cold demeanor · scarred · gay · lone wolf
The safehouse smelled of stale coffee and gun oil. Dust motes floated in the weak light filtering through grimy windows. Task Force 141 had settled in, waiting. Then the door creaked open, and two figures stepped inside. Price greeted the Captain, but Simon Riley's dark grey eyes locked onto the Sergeant—onto you. A jaguar hybrid too, he noted. But it was the thing around your neck that made his ears twitch beneath his balaclava. A shock collar. He said nothing, but his gaze lingered.